


White Knight in Quidditch Gear

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Hogwarts Era, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-09
Updated: 2006-10-09
Packaged: 2018-10-27 13:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Hermione locks herself in the boy’s dorm, Ron gives some beauty advice, and a much needed conversation finally takes place.  Ron/Hermione





	White Knight in Quidditch Gear

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for magic_carrousel’s September challenge on livejournal, prompts 11-20. This is my first time EVER writing something without Remus/Sirius. Wow. I actually wasn’t even planning on writing this. It just kind of… took a life of its own.  


* * *

           “Hermione, open the door.” Ron banged his gloved fist against the hard oak again. He didn’t even try his wand, since he was well aware of Hermione’s knowledge of locking charms.

            “No,” came the muffled reply.

            “You’re being unreasonable.”

            “ _Unreasonable_?” she shrieked. “ _I’m_ being unreasonable? They’re the ones who—” Hermione stopped abruptly as if she’d said too much.

            “Well, you’ve locked yourself in the boy’s dormitory. I’d call that unreasonable.” Ron looked helplessly down the stairs at Harry, who just shrugged and returned to the common room where the rest of the seventh year boys were waiting. It seemed as if he was truly alone in this adventure. With a sigh, he returned his attention to the holed-up witch. “Just open the door and tell me what’s wrong. I’ll try to help.”

            “Go away. There’s nothing you can do.”

             “How do you know that?” He hated it when she doubted him and what he could do. Though in this case, she was probably right.

            “I just do. Go,” she commanded stubbornly.

            “I’d like to, but you _are_ in my room, and I’d like to change out of my Quidditch gear.”

            There was a long moment of silence on the other side of the door. Then, he heard something suspiciously like sniffling. “I didn’t mean to be in here,” Hermione said apologetically.

            Ron sighed. “I know.”

            “It’s not that I went looking for trouble,” she snapped.

            “Look, I won’t ask what’s wrong. I won’t even ask you why you’re in there. Just come out. The common room’s nearly empty.” It was just the boys down there, now. And he _was_ getting extremely itchy in the sweat-soaked uniform. Surely he wasn’t expected to press for what the problem was.

            “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to come out.” She was being deliberately petulant.

             He snapped. “You are being unnaturally pig-headed about this. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear you’ve been replaced by a bloody girl.”

            Silence, then, “Language, Ron!” But her stubbornness had faded and the tone was half-hearted. Not to mention her voice was a bit more watery and the words choked.

             “Are you crying now? Merlin…” He placed his hands on either side of the door and stared at it in distress. A stubborn Hermione he could handle. A crying Hermione meant the end of the world.

            “Oi! Is it her time of the month?” Seamus yelled from down the stairs. “’Cause I think there’s a potion for that…”

            “Seamus, this is serious. Piss off!” he yelled. He lowered his voice and spoke urgently to the door. “Hermione, calm down.  _Please_.”

            Ron could hear nothing on the other side, but that meant she wasn’t sobbing yet, either. Perhaps there was still hope.

            “Open the door or I’ll… I’ll force my way in.”

            A bitter laugh. “I’d like to see you try.” She was questioning his abilities, again, though there was a challenge in her words.

            “Fine!” He glared at the heavy oak door and cold stone walls.

            If he couldn’t break the spells she put on the door, there was really only one other way to the room. Ron stomped down the stairs, huffing his annoyance. Did she have to be so aggravating?

            Dean and Seamus were playing a game of chess by the fire, though by a set of rules Ron had never heard of. Neville was feigning interest in the book on his lap. Harry looked up at Ron’s entrance hopefully. He, too, was still dressed in the Quidditch gear from the practice earlier that evening. Everyone else in Gryffindor was already in their rooms.

            He would need height for this adventure, and his broom was aimed for maneuverability. But Harry’s broom… “Hey, mate. Can I borrow this for a bit?”

            Harry raised an eyebrow, but handed over his stick without question. That, more than anything, made Ron realize how desperate the situation was.

            Several minutes later, after a near fatal run-in with Filch, Ron was hovering outside the window to his room, the room he should rightfully be sleeping in by now. It was just a simple _Alohamora_ and he came tumbling through the window. The lights were not on in the dorm, so he could barely make out Hermione curled up on the floor by his bed against his nightstand. He could see her jump when he entered, however.

            “Ron! How did you… What… That’s a violation of at least twenty school rules!” she spluttered.

            He felt a grin on his face despite the circumstances. “Sod the rules! Desperate situations call for desperate solutions.” Ron walked over to Hermione and stared expectantly down at her.

            “Go away. I’m warning you.” She folded her arms in front of her chest.

            “Or what? You’ll take points?” He sat down next to her. “I’m not going to leave now. I got this far didn’t I?”

            In the dim light he could make out her attempts to hold back a smile. “I could make life extremely difficult for you.” The threat held no heat.

            “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  He smiled gently at her. Then he noticed something clutched tightly in her hand. “So what’s that you got there?”

            Immediately she moved to cover it, confirming his suspicions. “Nothing.”

            “Come on. Let me see.” Faster than even he thought he was capable of, Ron snatched the item from her grasp.

            “Ron!” She didn’t seem too upset, however. Now that he was inside the dorm, the energy seemed to have drained from her.

            “Hermione? What are you doing with a self-help beauty magazine?” It was truly a nasty thing. Flipping through it, he was able to pick up on what the articles were about. It was disgusting how it measured the ‘standard’ for beauty. When he looked up, Hermione was blushing and looking away. “Hermione.”

            “I just thought…” she sighed and picked at the hem of her robe. “It’s those insipid girls. They don’t know when to stop, and I’ve had it with their poking and prodding and they’re never going to…”

             “Hermione.” It had burst out of her in one rush, and he was rather lost. “What did Lavender and Parvati do?”

            “It’s not so much what they _do_ as what they _say_.” She frowned in annoyance at his blank stare. “Ever since you and Lavender dated, they’ve done nothing but hint and suggest and plot. Plot! Did you know that they could plot?”

            “No.” He felt as if he were missing something in all this.

            “Every day they make a point of asking me about boys. ‘Who do you think is cute? Do you think you’d have a chance with so-and-so?’ And if they’re not asking about boys, they’re discussing me, as if I were a guinea pig or something. ‘You really ought to straighten that hair’ and ‘You would look so much better with a bit of lip gloss.’” Her breathing got heavier as she ranted until she was worked up again.

            “Hermione, they’ve always been like that.” It _was_ true. For as long as he remembered, they always talked like that.

            “But now they constantly make me feel inadequate!” If he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn she was pouting. Hermione muttered, “Before they were just focused on themselves.”

            “So you’ve actually bought their blather and have decided to read about it.”  It was making sense now. Why she was upset and why she had that bloody magazine. He supposed that even the toughest of witches could suffer low self-esteem from time to time.  “You know, I don’t think this will actually help you any.”

            Her eyes widened and filled with tears. “No one asked your opinion, Ronald!” she yelled.

            Immediately he realized his mistake. “Sorry! That’s not what I meant.” He held up his hands in appeasement. “What I mean is… well, there’s nothing about you to improve.” That still didn’t sound quite right. “I think you’re fine just the way you are.”

            It seemed as if he’d finally got it right, since her eyes were no longer tear-filled. Instead, there was a strange hopeful burning in them. “You mean that?”

            “Of course. And if any bloke tells you differently, point me in their direction and I’ll set them straight,” Ron said vehemently.

            “Terrance Chetling.”

            “Chetling? Isn’t he a fifth year?”

            “Yes.”

            “What’s he got to do with this?” His mind finally caught up to the conversation. He hadn’t expected names to be given so readily. “And more importantly, how would you like his face rearranged?”

            “It’s ok, Ron.”  She managed a tight smile.  “Lavender and Parvati tried to get him to take me to Hogsmeade or some such thing.”

            This surprised him. The two Gryffindor girls talked often and a lot, but it was rare that they actually took such action for someone else. “When did they talk to him about it?”

            “They tried sometime during break. I heard them talking. Apparently he laughed and said he wouldn’t bother with someone so plain looking while he had the likes of Johanna Blott available.” Hermione tried to look unaffected, but her voice wobbled slightly towards the end.

            “The bastard!” Ron spat. “He’s too young and immature for you anyway.”

            He expected her to say something, anything, but Hermione didn’t even admonish him for cursing.

             “Look at me, Hermione.” He placed a hand on either side of her head and forced her face upwards. “You are more than all that. If some bloke can’t see it, then he’s not worth your time.”

            He did not let her go until she gave a shaky nod. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Ron watching her while she worried her lip in thought. Finally she looked at him again. “Do you think… Do you think that Lavender and Parvati break down sometimes?”

            “I’m sure of it,” he said with certainty. “Everyone has moments of self-doubt. They probably just do it when they think no one’s watching.”

            “Whereas I confiscate an entire boy’s dormitory.” A wry grin played about her face.

            “How _did_ you end up in here?” The story he’d gotten from Neville upon return from practice had been convoluted and fuzzy. She glared at him. It was obviously not something he’d find out any time soon. “Sorry.”

            Once again, Hermione paused to think for several moments. “I’m not insane, am I? About all this… relationship stuff?”

            “No, you’re not. You’re perfect.” The words had spilled out of his mouth before he could catch them, but as Ron reached out a hand to brush the tears away from her cheek, he found them to be absolutely true.

            “Ron…” she whispered. It sent tingles down his spine and made him inexplicably nervous. However, her eyes were wide and trusting and he could see in the way she leant into his hand that she was asking him something important.

            He leaned forward slightly until every shaky breath she exhaled skimmed across his lips. This close, he could see red puffiness of her eyes and the blotchiness of her cheeks. Her hair was more wild than he’d ever seen, tangling in every direction. There was only one word. “Perfect.”

             When Ron finally closed his eyes and closed the distance between them, however, there was something decidedly off about her lips. He felt more than heard Hermione’s nervous laughter, sat back, and opened his eyes. “That was my chin.”

            “Yeah, well,” he stuttered. The blood was rushing to his face and ears, probably blinding her with how red they were. It was the worst thing to ever happen to him. He cast about for an excuse. “It’s hard in the dark.”

            Hermione’s laugh was genuine this time, and it was so welcoming that he couldn’t help but chuckle in response. The tension between them evaporated as they collapsed in fits against the bed. As he watched her, Ron saw how beautiful she was and the overwhelming feeling from before returned. This time, when he abruptly stopped her laughter, the kiss was perfect.

            Their noses were slightly smashed against each other and he didn’t know what to do with his hands, not to mention his body didn’t go haywire as it sometimes did when he was with Lavender months ago, but every piece of him suddenly fit perfectly together. From the way she grasped onto his arm, he could tell she felt the same.

            Reluctantly, they broke apart. If he had thought she was beautiful before, she was absolutely gorgeous with the small, content smile on her face. He cupped her cheek with his hand again and smoothed back her hair. He wanted to stay like this forever. Unfortunately, their time together had to end.

             Hermione sighed and rose elegantly to her feet, Ron following clumsily. He handed her back her magazine. Their eyes met in understanding. This changed everything, but it changed nothing as well. “Let’s get you back to your room before the others send for McGonagall.”

            As they walked to the door, she pretended to swoon. “My knight in sweaty Quidditch uniform.”

            He laughed at her unexpected humor. “Come, noble steed,” he said to the broomstick. “We must return the fair maiden to her chambers.”

            They walked in comfortable silence down the stairs and into the common room. The others looked up at their entrance, most of them confused at Hermione’s happy smile. Harry took his broom back from Ron, glanced between the two of them, and walked up to the room with a smile of his own. Ron watched as the others slowly made their way back to the dorm, but none of them noticed his hand resting on the small of her back. When they were left alone in the common room, Hermione finally turned to look at him.

            She pursed her lips hesitantly. “Ron, I…” When she looked in his eyes, Hermione let out a deep breath and continued. “Thank you.”

            He smiled and kissed her lightly. Before they went their separate ways for the night, Ron turned to Hermione one last time to add, “You’re just as sane as I am.” 


End file.
